


Uncomfortably Rumpled

by Rae



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-10
Updated: 2011-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rae/pseuds/Rae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Zee Keptin has a laundry fetish."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncomfortably Rumpled

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [notboldly50295](http://notboldly.livejournal.com/)

“Of course it's more important than sex!”

Spock halted abruptly just inside the officer's recreation room at Jim's sudden and unexpected proclamation. He surveyed the scene before him to try and put the statement into context. The small table sat in the middle of the room with the same six bodies surrounding it, as was custom. Lieutenants Chekov and Sulu sat beside each other, raptly watching the commotion in front of them. Lieutenant Commander Scott snorted into his drink, which sprayed a mist onto the table that Nyota dabbed at with a napkin, spearing the Scotsman with an amused glare. Doctor McCoy poured what appeared to be an amber liquid into his glass while smirking at the Captain.

Jim knelt on the seat of his chair, his chest pressed against the backrest, and stabbed a finger at Doctor McCoy. “Don't you laugh, you bastard. You don't understand. How could you? You freaking flail like an epileptic when you sleep. Of course it doesn't bother you.”

“You're just a freak.” McCoy shot back smugly as the others laughed at what Spock could easily speculate to be a feigned expression of hurt from Jim.

“Aye Captain, I have to agree with the good doctor here.” Mr. Scott leaned across the table and tipped his glass against the doctor's in camaraderie.

“No, not you too! Isn't anyone here normal?” Jim exclaimed, slumping over the chair, flopping his hands against the tabletop. Without Jim's body blocking the view, Nyota spotted Spock standing in the doorway, clutching his data padd in front of him like a shield. He read the expression on her face and immediately wanted to back out of the room. It was a familiar look of mischievousness, and it usually led to his discomfort.

“Well, I don't know about normal in your terms, Jim, but I know someone who might agree with you." Nyota tipped her beer towards Spock then smugly took a sip as five heads swiveled to pin him with their stares.

Taking a deep, unnoticeable breath, Spock stepped forward and presented his padd to Jim.

"Captain, the reports you requested." He waited for Jim to take the device so he could leave before becoming entangled in whatever it was that had Nyota smiling that smile at him. He continued to wait while Jim just looked up at him from where his head rested against the backrest. Spock dropped his arm and the padd to his side and tugged at his shirt, the only fidgeting he allowed himself when discomforted. "Sir?"

Blue eyes swept up and down his body, considering something before turning to Nyota. "Really?" Jim's voice was laced with disbelief.

Nyota laughed and nodded. "You have no idea."

"I don't believe you." Jim sat back on his heels and glanced over his shoulder at Spock before shaking his head and laughing. "No."

Spock did not know what was being discussed, or what was being implied about himself but he found he strongly disliked Jim's disbelief all the same. At the humor being rapidly expressed by those around the table, Spock felt blood start to creep up his face and willed it, with all of his Vulcan resolve, away. This weekly ritual, known as Texas Hold 'Em, was performed with alcohol, banter, and doses of 'too much information', as it had been explained to him by Jim when Jim had tried to coerce him into participating. The description, however, was less than appealing to his Vulcan sensibilities, and he had declined the invitation. His decision, in light of this current situation, had proven to be the correct one.

Spock opened his mouth to make an excuse to leave without handing off the reports, but McCoy interrupted his escape plan by speaking.

"I don't know why that's so difficult to believe. I mean, just look at him." The doctor said, waving a hand in his general direction. "He's so freakishly tidy I bet he irons his underwear."

"I beg your pardon." The blood flow was harder to divert from his face but he managed. He was Vulcan, after all.

"No. It's not about being tidy, Bones. You see, you just can't understand. It's...well. Hmm." Jim seemed to struggle with the words. "It's comfort, and safety and- damn it, stop laughing at me!"

This last comment was directed at Nyota, who had let out a rather loud snort. "I'm sorry, but you are so full of crap! It's completely anal, and really speaks to deep seeded issues that I don't even want to speculate on. In short, that's some freaky shit. Captain."

Spock chose not to defend himself against Nyota's allusion to a commonality between Jim and himself that was considered. . . anal. He also, quite generously, overlooked the implied insult leveled at him and decided instead to alleviate his curiosity.

"May I inquire as to what is being discussed?"

"Zee Keptin has a laundry fetish."

Jim threw a small blue disk at Chekov while trying to talk over the laughs and guffaws of his companions.

"I do not! It's not a fetish, either. It's a preference. A perfectly normal sleeping preference."

"And that preference would be?" Spock felt his cheeks finally flood with heat from the act of participating in such a personal conversation. However, he found his desire to discover what they were speaking about far outweighed his embarrassment. He met and held Jim's gaze as Jim opened his mouth to speak, but Doctor McCoy beat him to it.

"Jimmy here can't sleep unless he's tucked in good and proper like a five year old bed wetter."

Spock watched, secretly amused as Jim's face bloomed with color. "That's- no. You know what, go ahead and have your laughs, but just you wait until next week. I'm not going to hold back out of respect anymore."

Spock's eyebrow twitched as Jim rose and gripped his elbow to steer him from the rec room, Nyota's voice following them out the door.

"I don't know, Jim, this is good enough to last a couple of games before we move on to someone else."

The door swished closed behind them but not before Jim responded with a rather crude hand gesture. They made their way to the lift where Jim released Spock's arm and pouted against the wall as the lift descended toward their quarters.

"They're all a bunch of piranhas. Once they smell blood they all swoop in for the kill. Well, not usually Chekov. That one hurt. Deeply." Jim's smile belied his words and Spock suspected that Jim felt a bit of pride at seeing the young lieutenant finally comfortable enough with the senior staff to share in the exchange of gibes.

"It's not like they painted it, you know. I just like my sheets to be tucked properly and unwrinkled. I can't stand to feel them bunched up around my feet or loose and flapping around. It's like, I can feel the creases against my skin and it aggravates me. That's not weird right?" Jim tipped his head up to catch Spock's eye.

"Not at all, Captain." Spock turned his attention forward and exited the lift as the doors slid open, Jim following closely behind him.

"So, is it true?"

"I am unsure as to what you are referring to." Spock stopped in front of Jim's quarters, waiting as Jim entered his code and crossed the threshold before following him inside.

"What Uhura said. You know, that you like neat sheets too." Jim stepped over to his synthesizer and ordered up a water before gesturing to Spock, who declined the unspoken offer with a subtle shake of his head.

"Honestly, I find it hard to believe because it seems that those that sleep all willy-nilly can't handle someone who needs tight sheets. It's like cat and dog people, they just don't mesh."

"Willy-nilly, sir?"

"Spock." Jim stared at him with that look that meant he wasn't buying it. Spock tucked his hands behind his back and clutched his padd between them. Jim must have noticed his hesitation because he was suddenly waving the question away. "Never mind. Forget I asked. I know you value your privacy and it's none of my business."

"I believe it is Terran custom to make concessions to one's partner." Spock raised his eyebrow to forestall any further objections and continued with his reply. "Lieutenant Uhura was a mobile sleeper which did indeed result in uncomfortable rumpling. I conceded my own preference to ensure her comfort."

"Hell no, Spock! You gotta fight for the important things in life, and there's nothing more important than firmly tucked sheets."

"Indeed." Spock could not suppress the swell of amusement that twitched at his lips from Jim's passionate response and as Jim's grin stretched into a wide smile, Spock knew his lapse had been noticed.

"So I'm curious, how'd you cure Uhura, or do you just nerve pinch her at night?"

"I am not sure I understand the question, Captain."

"You said Uhura was a mobile sleeper. Past tense. So she's not anymore." Jim seemed to remember his water and started drinking deeply from his glass, presumably to stave off dehydration from his earlier alcoholic intake.

"I would not know, Captain. I can only speculate." Spock couldn't help the rise of his eyebrows in surprise as Jim began choking on his water. He moved to assist Jim but was waved off with the hand holding the glass while Jim braced himself against his knee with the other.

"What?"

"Lieutenant Uhura and I ceased relations 143.6 days ago. You were not aware of this?"

"No, I wasn't." Jim crossed the room, setting his glass on their chess table before clapping a hand to Spock's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Spock."

Spock allowed the contact as he was quite used to Jim's need for tactile connection. However, the caressing motion of Jim's thumb that swept over the exposed skin of his neck was new and did not correlate to Jim's previous attempts at comfort.

"We parted amicably." Spock cocked his head as new information began to bleed through Jim's touch. "Captain, if I may inquire, what is it specifically about this news that pleases you?"

Jim pulled his hand away as if burned and retreated a few paces. Spock found himself disapproving of this sudden distance.

"Damn it, Spock! Are you reading me?"

"Unintentionally, I assure you. You project your emotions strongly and they can be difficult to block. And you have not responded to my question.” Spock found himself faltering as a sudden theory occurred to him. “If-if you wish to pursue a relationship with Lieutenant Uhura, I have no objections."

Spock felt his side clench uncomfortably and looked to the floor to hide his frown. He would have to meditate on the anomaly later when he had the time to devote his full attention to it. As it was, Jim commanded his attention by stepping close enough that his boots came into Spock's line of sight. Spock lifted his gaze to see Jim starring at him intently and noticed, too, that Jim's respiration had increased by 15.7% for no apparent reason.

"Why did you end it?" Jim all but whispered the question and Spock felt his throat go dry at the soft rasp.

"We mutually agreed-"

"Come on, I know it was you. Why?"

Spock felt his heartbeat accelerate as well as his respiration. Again, as with Jim, there appeared no apparent cause for this biological response. He wanted to leave, to examine these anomalous reactions, but found himself unable to tear his gaze away from Jim. They were now close enough that Spock could feel Jim's breath puff against his chin.

"Why, Spock?"

"It was not logical to remain in a relationship that had no hope of advancing." Spock was surprised to hear his voice whispering out of his mouth. He had not consciously decided to match Jim's soft tone, but he had.

"Why no hope?" Jim stepped closer. Spock could now feel Jim's body heat warring with his own. Any closer and they would be touching. A shiver worked through his body at the thought.

"I..."

"Yes?"

"I developed an interest in another."

"Who?"

An intense wave of fear swept through him and Spock urged his body to flee. "I must see to the labs, if you could-" Spock thrust the data padd at Jim and stumbled backwards.

Jim merely dropped the padd to the floor before wrapping a hand around Spock's neck and pulling him down into a kiss. It was a shock. Spock felt so much rolling through him that his head became light and seemed to float away from his body. It frightened him to feel disconnected. He clutched at Jim's shoulders, sure that he was about to rise off the ground. Then he felt moisture swipe across his lips and he was suddenly and assuredly grounded within his body again. He heard the moan escape his throat a moment before he became aware of Jim's body pressed between him and the wall.

At some point Jim's legs had wrapped around his own and Jim's hands had traveled under his shirt, and the sensation had Spock trembling. It was too much and not enough and it hurt and was the best thing he had ever felt in the whole of his life.

"Jim." The name left his mouth on a moan.

"Yes. God, yes, Spock!" Jim gasped against Spock's ear. Wet heat spread across his lobe and headed straight to Spock's groin.

He was overwhelmed. He felt needwantlove coursing through his skin and knew it came from Jim. It completely undid him. Spock sunk to his knees, taking Jim with him. He wrapped his arms around Jim and buried his face against Jim's neck to catch his breath and compose himself before he lost his control completely.

"Spock, are you okay? Is this okay?" Jim's concern spilled into Spock's mind as gentle hands carded through his hair.

"No and yes."

Jim moved to stand and immediately Spock fisted his hands in the gold fabric of Jim's command tunic to hold him in place. "Please stay."

He heard Jim sigh before settling astride him again. Gentle hands roamed up his chest to cup around his neck. "You gotta help me out here, Spock. I feel like I'm pushing you. I know I have a habit of jumping first and thinking later, but I don't want you to think this is just some whim. It's not. You're not."

"I did not think I was." Spock breathed deep the scent of Jim and allowed it to fill him. Calm him.

"Okay. We can take this as slow as you need it to go. I'll wait. We don't have to-"

"Jim."

"Yeah?"

"Please cease speaking."

"Um. Okay."

Spock continued taking deep, calming breaths. Slowly, he unclenched his hands and smoothed the bunched fabric he had clasped so desperately. His hands moved then without a map across Jim's strong back, settling on the sharp terrain of hipbone. His fingers followed a trail of exposed skin above the waistline of Jim's slacks and was rewarded with a burst of pleasure as Jim shuddered atop him. There was much here to explore. So much uncharted territory, and with another breath full of Jim's heady scent, he prepared himself for this new adventure.

Pulling back, Spock met Jim's gaze and saw reflected there uncertainty, concern and desire. Desire for him. With the suddenness of a Shelat diving for prey, Spock stood. With hands tight on Jim's waist, he effortlessly lifted the man with him. Legs curled around him, clinging, as Spock strode with determination toward the bed. Jim's mouth, the very same he had stared at for months with unrequited longing, was now pressed against his jaw, his chin, his mouth. Need spiked through him, and Spock responded.

Jim's back hit the mattress and Spock quickly straddled him, grabbing the material of Jim's shirts and removing them in one pull. Spock lost himself in the expanse of skin before him, his thoughts narrowing to the sensation of warm flesh beneath his hands and lips. He nipped at a tightened nipple and earned a sharp gasp from Jim. Then, suddenly, he found himself naked, beneath Jim with slick fingers slipping into his body.

Spock startled with a jolt. When had this happened? Where had he been while Jim had stripped him? Clearly he remembers the fuzzy impression of Jim stroking his ears, his neck, sucking bruises down his clavicle. But no, his clothes had already been divested at that point. This would not do. Spock realized with sudden and unpleasant clarity that his shields were non-existent. He was open, exposed, and lacking even the most basic of Vulcan control. He fought to regain his control even as clever fingers twisted into him, wringing a keening whimper from his throat.

“Don't, Spock. I can feel you retreating. Stay with me. Be here.” Words whispered against his splayed thighs as Jim mouthed the sensitive skin, nipping a tender patch behind a knee. Spock twitched at the thought. Jim had no idea. He couldn't know that in regaining control he was attempting to stay present, to remain aware of his actions and more importantly, Jim's.

“I cannot. Jim, I need...” Spock's words were captured by Jim's hot tongue.

“You don't need control here. Not with me. Just be, Spock. Let go.” A sudden shift of fingers and Spock's entire body lit up. “ I've got you. I promise. Just let go. Let go for me, Spock.”

And he did.

Spock's eyes fluttered open to a fuzzy white blob obscuring his vision. Rapid blinking did nothing to clear his vision, and there was nothing for it but to actively move his body. Turning his head against the pillow, his view drastically improved when Jim's grinning face came into focus. Slightly callused fingers ghosted up and down his spine and wet kisses pressed against his shoulder where Jim was draped over his prone form.

“Welcome back.”

“Mmph.” Spock is slightly ashamed of his unintelligible response, but Jim's ministrations were quickly lulling him back into slumber. He couldn't bring himself to care. Assuming he properly understood Jim's sudden laughter, he didn't think Jim cared either.

“Lost you for a minute, there.” Deft fingers wound through his hair and Spock thought that maybe, he might have purred. His eyes closed in bliss as the nights activities started to filter into his languid mind.

“M'pologies.”

“Not necessary. God you're gorgeous like this.” Spock didn't fight the blush that overcame him and continued to allow faint impressions and startling clear memories to coalesce into a working time line of events. His blush spread from face to neck to chest when his total lack of inhibitions flooded his memory center. He had, in no uncertain terms, been completely wanton during their union. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he had ever let go as completely as he had with Jim. With a few strokes and whispers Jim had wrought his utter surrender.

Suppressing a groan, Spock turned his face back into his pillow and tried to hide from Jim and himself and the rest of the world until possibly the end of time. The soft bite to the base of his neck wasn't allowing his plan to go uninterrupted, however.

“Would you stop it? You didn't do anything wrong, Spock. You're no less Vulcan now than you were three hours ago.” Full, glorious lips worked down his spine as Jim shifted off Spock to lay curled against his side. Spock brought his head up to breath and his eyes glossed over the smirking face he held such affection for.

“How-”

“I've made a habit of learning you, Spock. Three years, I'm pretty good at figuring out what's bouncing around that skull of yours.”

Spock absorbed this new knowledge and mentally checked his body's current state. A curious tickle in his posterior was to be expected, as was the discomfort of the drying pool of semen he was laying in. His legs twitched against the wreck of the bed and he realized he was tangled in sheets that mostly draped off the foot of the bed. Most bothersome was the curl of elastic cotton that somehow ensnared his right foot.

With a silent sigh, Spock pushed up from the bed and entered the facilities to make use of the shower unit. In less then two minutes, he was back in Jim's quarters. The sight that greeted him had Spock stopping in the doorway in uncertainty. Jim lay propped on his elbows, seemingly unconcerned with his naked body being on display. A disposable cleansing cloth lay discarded on the floor beside him, but it was the surprise and obvious fear that flashed across his face when Spock reentered the room that had stalled his forward momentum.

What was the protocol for this event? Should he not have returned? Was he supposed to retire to his own quarters now? And would this continue or was this an anomalous event that would never be repeated? He did not have any answers and he felt, for the first time all evening, fear that this was a mistake and potentially detrimental for their professional relationship and friendship. That fear took hold and began to grow, spreading throughout his body until he nearly shook with it. He stood there for what felt like eternity. However, it took Jim only 6.38 seconds to dispel his fear and direct the next course of action.

Spock watched Jim's face transform from wariness with the quick arrival of a fierce grin as Jim lay back against the pillows, patting the empty space beside him. Comfortable with the familiarity of Jim's expression, Spock strode forward and clutched the bedding strewn about the floor. With quick, efficient motions he tucked the sheets back into their proper place and climbed into his vacated position, pulling the covers over himself and Jim. Settling in comfortably, Spock turned to his gaping bed-mate. Raising an inquiring eyebrow earned him an armful of naked Jim.

“If there was any doubt before, which there wasn't, it would be erased by the awesomeness of what you just did.” Jim swished his feet against the crisply tucked linens before twining his legs with Spock's. “I freaking love you.”

Spock wrapped his arms around Jim and, after ordering the lights out, he allowed himself the smallest of smiles in the darkness. “And I you, Jim.”


End file.
